From the Ashes of Victory: The Complete Series, page 112
part #0 of From the Ashes of Victory Series
"Vita," Katya said softly, her eyes saying everything else; silently repeating the conversation they'd just had back at her. Victoria held her tongue, her hands working at her sides, balling and twisting as her self-control smashed headlong in her need to lash out, to do something about what roiled within her before she broke beyond her ability to stop it.
"No-one doubts that, Victoria. But Helga's right. This won't be won that way. We need your mind, not your Manifest," Selene said tiredly.
"You really were there, weren't you?" Helga asked.
Victoria fingered the rings on Colette's bridal gauntlets. "I was. What of it?"
"Nothing… it… must have been horrible. I believe you when you say you would kill me to keep it from happening again."
Blood rushed away from Victoria's face, and she felt herself go pale as a sheet. "Helga, I… I apologise, I didn't mean—"
"Yes you did. But it's all right. Well, it's not, but I understand. If you say death is preferable to being Stripped, I believe you. I would prefer neither, of course, but if that display I saw is a reflection of how deeply your passions run on this subject, then I defer to your experience," Helga said. "Many people felt it, as much as saw it. I think Octavia did great damage to their case. You should press your civility. Be rational and level-headed."
"That sounds like you, Vita," Katya said.
"As I feared. But I don't know what I can say to them to sway their opinions. They are clearly just as passionate about our guilt as we are about our innocence. What good will rhetoric do when they've already made up their minds?"
"They've only heard half the story," Helga said. "Octavia's half. The half based on emotions. All they've heard is what they already believe, yes, but you only have to prise away a few of them. What's the expression? 'Beyond a shadow of a doubt?' Cast more light. You're good at that," Helga said with a sidelong glance at Katya. "And I am willing to help you with your arguments. On one condition."
"And what is that?" Victoria asked, perplexed that Helga would be so bold as to entreat herself so only to yank it all back at the last moment.
Katya and Elise had much the same thoughts, and it was immediately obvious Helga felt the room shift. She threw her arms out defensively. "I just want to know how to make witchlights fly!" she blurted.
Victoria and the others relaxed visibly, and the room seemed to brighten.
"We would have done that anyway, but you can't take it back now," Katya said.
Though the hour was already late, they sat down and got to work.
Pretoria sat in the dining room with the morning newspaper laid out in front of her, lit by the witchlight burning on top of her head. She looked down on it, the true scale of the task ahead only getting bigger the more pages she turned.
It was just a field of black ink; columns and columns of words, a cloud of meaning she had no hope of deciphering. How did people make sense of any of it?
In her first lesson with Ivy, she'd learned one letter: 'T'
It was in gigantic type at the top of the front page, and seemed as good a place to start as any, even over Ivy's point that this particular edition was full of French.
Still, Pretoria stared at her 'T' until it was burned into the back of her eyes, and went about searching for others.
It was hard, gruelling work, and she started seeing double almost immediately, so when she looked up to see two Alexandras, she was less put off by the idea than she would have otherwise been.
"I… I brought you something," Alexandra said. "My way of apologising for being horrid to you." She reached into the shopping bag she was carrying and pulled out two thin books. "I thought you'd like to start somewhere a little easier than the newspaper."
They were clearly meant for children, as the covers were splashed with big, colourful illustrations of everyday objects and animals; a tree, a cat, but very few words.
"These are the same books I learned to read English from. Though these are updated, of course," Alexandra said. "A gift from the British am… from a British friend of my father's. I used them when I started teaching my brother…" She took a sharp breath, visibly settling her emotions before swallowing hard. "I thought… that maybe I could help you. If you'd like."
Pretoria was flabbergasted. "I… I don't know what to say," she said, running her hands over the books as if they were precious artefacts Alexandra had brought back from India or Egypt. "Would you do that for me?"
"It's the least I can do. You have my sincere apologies for how I behaved. I was wrong, and you deserved better. I almost drove you away. It's only right that I should give you a reason to stay," Alexandra said.
"Thank you. I would like that very much," Pretoria said.
Visible relief washed over Alexandra, and she smiled for the first time Pretoria had ever seen. She took the seat next to Pretoria enthusiastically, setting her hands on the table. "Call me Nastya. Please."
Pretoria felt her brow bunch together. "Is that… a nickname?"
"Of a sort. Russians have many of them. You'll see when the others come home," Nastya said with a conspiratorial smile. "What about Pretoria? Is there a short version?"
"Not that I've ever heard," Pretoria admitted. Even Aunt Agatha had only ever called her Pretoria. The thought of Aunt Agatha made her look at Nastya again and think of the reaction she'd had to the mention of her brother.
"Well, we'll have to change that at some point. We're very fond of nicknames in Russia. I'll think on it. Now, would you like to get started?"
"I… yes," Pretoria looked back down as Nastya opened the first book, the brand-new pages crinkling and popping as the bindings stretched for the first time. Pretoria had never opened a new book before. "Do they all smell like this?"
"Many do, yes. It's a smell I hope you come to love as much as Vita and I do."
"Vita?" Pretoria asked.
"Victoria's Russian nickname. You should see how many books she has in her room. I don't know how she found so many in only six months," Nastya said in clear approval. "Or where."
"Could you teach me to write, as well?" Pretoria asked hopefully.
"Of course! I love writing letters. When my family wrote letters to each other, we only wrote in English. It was good practice," Nastya said, her voice catching on the word 'was.' Pulling a handkerchief out of her sleeve, she dabbed at her eye. "I'm sorry, Pretoria. It's still hard. Sometimes it catches me by surprise."
"It's all right. I understand. I don't think it's all hit me yet."
"It will. But that's all right, too. We'll help you through that, as well. You're with your sisters now. Where you belong."
A nebulous, uncertain feeling that had been swirling around Pretoria since she'd first been introduced to Ivy solidified in her mind all at once. The element that had been tugging at the corner of her mind, but hadn't been able to put her finger on: Aunt Agatha had never been as heartfelt to Pretoria as EVE had been. She had loved Pretoria, and done her very best in raising her sister's daughter, but it had never been her choice to do so.
Now, Pretoria knew beyond a doubt, that EVE wanted her.
And she wanted them.
"Thank you… Nastya."
"You're very welcome. Now, shall we get started?"
The Council Hall, when it was full again, was dimmer. Not only in comparison to how much Katya had brightened it, but for the fact there were only 23 candles burning now.
Below the one that had been snuffed out sat Octavia, looking both chastened and perturbed, her arms crossed over her chest as she sat low in her chair. Victoria would have called her petulant if not for the hollow look in her eyes; the emptiness where her self-confidence used to reside.
Banging her gavel, Marianne called the Council to order once more, and the nervous buzzing in the room silenced immediately.
In its stead flowed a tension that was almost palpable. Like insidious gas, it was thick and heavy, moving evenly throughout the closed space and completely indiscriminate in whose features it transformed.
Victoria, for her part, was not immune, and she could do little but keep her eyes cast down to her hands. Though the bridal gauntlets stretched over the backs were Colette's, the green brought to Victoria's mind Millie and Ivy's eyes, of all those back home who weren't there in body, but still weighed down Victoria's shoulders. They were why she was here. Why they had come all this way, and she knew that today would be the one that decided what kind of future their efforts would bring forth.
After the display the previous night, the glances she and Katya received were furtive and brief—Selene's suspicious, Svetlana's absent altogether. The Russian's reputation having clearly preceded her, Victoria wished she had thought to ask Helga about how everyone else saw Svetlana, and just how much they knew about her Manifest.
Helga herself was seated as before, though she drew considerably less attention than she had the previous day, which was just as well. Victoria was the one who needed to hold the eyes and ears of the others for now.
Marianne cleared her throat, and all eyes fell to her. "To this assembly of sisters I say this: any repetition of yesterday's outbursts will not be tolerated. The instigator has been duly castigated, and it will not be spoken of again for the duration of the Council." The Head made sure she was well understood before speaking again. "Though it was not my intention for it to be thus, yesterday ended up being a de facto argument of prosecution. It is only right that today function in favour of the defence. Selene, as the eldest of EVE, do you speak for them?"
"I do not. That honour falls to Victoria."
"Very well. Proceed," Marianne said.
Nodding her thanks, Victoria stood slowly, her heart hammering so hard she feared that if she stood up too quickly she would fall right back down again. She'd wanted the eyes and ears of the other witches, and now she had them. The other twenty Council members, and all those other witches ringed around them, even more than yesterday, they all gave Victoria their undivided attention. No matter what their reasons for doing so, they all clearly wanted to hear what she had to say.
With a final touch of Colette's gauntlets, Victoria gathered herself as best she could, looking out over the sea of magical power she found herself an island amidst, and plunged ahead.
"I, and my sisters of EVE do not come to you in opposition," she began. "But nor do we come in supplication. We come as equals, to have our reasoning and our choices heard in open Council."
Getting no response to this, Victoria continued.
"The events of the Flying Circus in April were unintended and unplanned-for. It was not our intent to openly flaunt the rulings of this Council, nor to turn up our noses at our sisters here on the Continent. Indeed, at the time, we didn't know we had any. But what you must understand is that when I and the other members of my Coven first learned that we had this Talent, that we could one day become full-fledged witches, we had no idea that it was even possible. Magic was a myth, a component of fairy tales and legend. We did not grow up with it, as so many of you did. We were all of us shattered and broken by the war, and only wanted to do our part in making a difference as to its outcome. The more we learned, the more powerful we became, but it was all done in isolation. This is not Selene's fault, nor Ivy's, nor Colette's… nor yours. Your isolation was prudent, and perhaps ensured that there are any witches today at all. I understand your reasoning, and had I been present at the last Council, I would have probably agreed with it. But this is not the 17th century, it is the 20th, and the world that I was born into is very different from yours."
As she spoke, Victoria made sure to make eye contact with every single Council member, and when she ran out, those in the gallery behind.
"I, like many of you, lost much in the war. My parents, my twin brother, my family home… myself. That the revelation of my gifts came so soon afterward and in such a context, I believed, meant that I had to do something with them. I have lived my entire life in the pursuit of knowledge and higher understanding, and this was an outcome of that pursuit. I earned this," Victoria said, lowering a hand to place her palm flat on the table. Then through it.
Gasps flew, many stifled by hands over the mouths they belonged to, but Victoria ignored them, pulling her hand back out and flexing her fingers to prove they still worked.
"My Manifest. Millie. Elise." Victoria glanced back to where she stood and gestured in her direction so all would know and see. Though she wasn't allowed a voice at the Council, Victoria would make sure Elise was acknowledged.
Victoria continued, "All in the same week, a month after the end of the war. Though I do not believe in fate or destiny, it is difficult to ascribe those circumstances to mere accident. Few of you here have Manifested, I understand. I say that not in mockery or to hold myself above you, but to illustrate that there is more than one reason that our thinking is so at odds with yours. We, my Coven and our mentors, strove very hard to try to make a difference in the outcome of the war. To shorten it, make it less bloody, to ease the suffering of those affected, something. We largely failed.
"And yet… and yet we still had this power. Our gifts. And so EVE was founded. Not just as a school, as is our public perception, but as a means for witches to make a difference in the world. To stop the last four years from ever happening again."
"Why?" Maria interjected. "Who are you to take that upon yourselves?" Many nods from around the room echoed her sentiment.
Victoria met Maria's dark eyes easily. "The American president Abraham Lincoln once said that if you want to truly test a man's character, give him power and see what he does with it. The greatest war in human history was fought here. Killed your friends. And what did you do with your power?" she looked about at a ring of downcast eyes.
"Nothing. You did nothing. I leave it up to your conscience to tell you what that says about your character. Did your isolation salve it? Do you tell yourself that you were just following the rules? There is a calculus there, I admit, balancing one against the other, but after four years of horror, death and misery, to cling to a 200-year-old ruling as a reason to let it continue… that I cannot understand."
"You don't live here, Raven of the wood. You don't have to stew in the consequences," Ludmila said.
"Don't I? We?" Victoria asked, gesturing to Katya and Svetlana. "What happened at the Circus is a consequence. It set fire to my home, threatened the lives of my friends, all because one man took exception to the actions of powerful women. Millie often speaks of 'the day they come for us' when it comes to why she trains with Niamh, why her Manifest is the way it is. That day in April was that day… the first day. Walter Huxley may have known about witches, but he acted against the Longs, not us. The Longs, in their capacity as businesswomen, made a choice he disagreed with, was threatened by, and he lashed out. Magic spared us the outcome he wanted.
"In the end, it didn't matter that we were witches. The Longs aren't witches. He came anyway. Every minute of every day, someone out there is 'come for.' Someone who can't hide, who can't protect themselves, because the power to do so has been systematically taken from them. All those wives abused by their husbands, all those daughters beaten by their fathers. Those women whose hearts belong to other women and are institutionalised for it, or worse…" she had to consciously avoid looking back at Elise as she swept the room with her gaze.
"They've already been 'come for.' Where is their Council that decrees that they disappear? They can't. They are without power and without hope. We are nothing if not both of those things, and if we succeed at nothing else, it should be providing it to them." Victoria turned. "Katya, my bag, please. Thank you."
Victoria pulled out a stack of envelopes that had previously called the special box on her desk home and held them aloft for all to see. Setting the rest on the table, she opened the topmost and began to read:
"'Never have I believed that magic was real, but here I sit, writing a letter to a real-life witch. I sit here alone under the cover of night in fear that my husband will find out, but you have given me the courage to take this step: to say thank-you. I have been belittled and berated my entire life, made to feel small and helpless, but you have given me the most precious gift I could ask for in the darkness of my life: hope. All is not lost; you stood before the Reaper and made him turn away. You stood on your own two feet, and used your power nakedly and unabashedly for the good of so many, and let it be known that it was possible for a woman to do so. To stand up. I do not know that I will ever find the courage to stand up for myself, but know that you have given me the wherewithal to begin searching for it.'"
Victoria gently set the letter down on the ancient table. "She understandably withheld her name, but know that it's real. And this one. And this one; these are all real letters from real people, all saying the same thing. For whatever fear we may have stirred, we have given hope to as many. Shattered by the last few years, they needed magic to be real. It was a relief to know that there is more to the world than what they can see. What they have been left with."
"Hope gets a few letters written, a boost to your egos, perhaps. Fear gets witches killed. Fear gets whispers spoken. Fear gets anyone who stands up a club over the head," said Josephine.
"Yes. Fear killed Colette. Fear of her by weak men. And now these are all that's left of her." Victoria held up her hands. "Centuries of life, of learning; philosophy, music, science, these are all that has returned to the land she was born in. These and what's in here." Victoria tapped her chest over her heart. "I stand here because she stood up first. She chose to better herself and you banished her for it. And now she's dead. By her own hand after having her gift forcibly taken from her."
"Because of you," Josephine said, looking from Victoria to Selene.
